


A Thing About Hair

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Darren's hair start their own torrid love affair. Totally hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thing About Hair

Chris is fixating on Darren's hair, and it's Ashley's fault. Definitely Ashley's fault. Ashley gets all of the blame. He won't even bring the alcohol into it; the alcohol didn't do anything except sit there in the bottle, effortlessly tempting. It was really just Ashley, bringing the poor helpless alcohol over and waiting until Chris was giggling drunk before she whipped out her laptop and started to pull up the videos. 

She'd already known that he'd already known every word to every song, but she's never actually coaxed him into watching the videos with her before. Now she doesn't just get to watch with him but she gets him singing along, loudly and obnoxiously.

He'll admit the next morning that the watch along was fun but what isn't fun is that on set all he can do is sit there and think about Darren and his stupid hair. 

*

Over lunch (salads and sandwiches, catering standbys) he asks, "Don't you miss the hair?" 

Darren takes the question in stride. It's ridiculously hard to throw him. "Are we talking head, chest, or p-" 

"Head!" Chris squeaks. "Head." 

"Oh, man, yeah. I mean - it was a shitload of work to keep it from looking like an afro, but I hate getting haircuts and now it's like, every other fucking week." 

Right now Darren looks about as far apart from the boy in the videos as he could. What hair he does have left is slicked down close to his head, though a few curls threaten to escape at the nape of his neck. Chris knows that they'll be slicked back into place before they start shooting the next scene. 

He notices that Darren is giving him a look. A few seconds later, he notices that he's still staring at Darren's head like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Sooooooooo," Darren hums, conversationally. "Why do you ask?" 

"Just, uh." A few different lies race through Chris's mind, but he settles on the truth. "Last night Ashley and I got drunk and watched your musical." 

Darren's eyes go a little wide and he laughs. "Wow, okay, wasn't expecting that one. And it made you think of my hair?" 

"Your hair looked..." He struggles to find a word. "I wanted to touch it." 

Darren takes it in stride. "I used to get that a lot. Not so much anymore." 

He looks so genuinely sad that Chris has to laugh. "Miss it?" 

"Like you wouldn't believe. It's kind of like, you know, a thing for me - uh, it gets me going, you know? Fingers in my hair." He says it without a moment's thought or shame. 

Chris is never sure if he hates that about Darren or appreciates it. He responds with a high laugh and says, "TMI." 

"Sorry." Darren shoots him an unapologetic grin. 

*

That one comment sort of rattles around in Chris's brain. 

Three days later, they're all out; a couple dozen cast and crew enjoying a post-concert performance. The tour isn't really any easier or harder than filming, but the toll of being away from their respective homes for so long has them all a little stir crazy. This time they've got a full two days between performances, enough time to get truly and spectacularly wasted and recover in time for the next concert.

They've taken over the stage and microphone, set up a tab without much concern for who will actually pay it, and the entire bar is littered with faces familiar to Chris. 

There's one very familiar one beckoning him over, and Chris politely swoops out of his chair and heeds the call. His conversation partner hasn't really been actively listening for a good five minutes anyway, apparently not as entranced by the British monarchy as Chris is. He would normally feel a little worse about boring people with topics that he's fascinated by, but he's had a few too many drinks to bother with that tonight. 

Darren and the throng of followers he's acquired have taken over a small, squat table with bench seats around it. There aren't really any seats left but when Chris walks over Darren hops down and sits on the floor. It's on the tip of Chris's tongue to scold him, because who really knows how dirty those floors are, but he waves off the urge and takes the seat anyway. 

The conversations weave around him and he gets drawn in. The drink makes everything a pleasant blur, the music is familiar and fun, and Darren's shoulder is a warm weight against his calf. At one point Chord says something so funny that Chris ends up doubled over wheezing with laughter, and Darren's nearing the same state. He turns his head over, rests his forehead on Chris's knee, and Chris ends up with his nose pressed to Darren's hair. 

He breathes in deep and it smells so good - fuck, it feels good, too. Barely any product at all, just silky curls that are growing out now, that Chris knows will continue to grow until they start filming again. He leans back up, wipes at his watering eyes and sucks in air to his burning lungs, recovering from the fit of laughter but not from the sudden bone-deep urge to just... 

He does it. Waits until other people are talking, there aren't really eyes on them, and reaches down and... pets Darren's hair. 

Darren notices, for sure, but he doesn't react badly. Almost immediately he sort of butts his head back against Chris's palm, shoulders slumping a little. Chris scritches his fingers through the curls at the base of Darren's neck and then works up, massaging his scalp. 

He notices Darren starting to shift, drawing one leg up closer to his body. He notices that Darren sort of stops talking, only murmuring the occasional comment instead of his usual efforts to jump right in and redirect the conversation to himself. He notices that Darren leans a little more heavily on him and he definitely notices when Darren's hand reaches out and wraps around his ankle. Two points of contact between them now, and when Chris lets his thumb rub just behind Darren's ear he definitely, definitely doesn't miss the way Darren's hand squeezes at his ankle. 

Chris tugs on a curl and Darren's shoulders jerk a little. His head tilts up, catches Chris's eye. Darren's finger rubs a soft circle against the jut of bone on Chris's ankle. For a moment, Chris doesn't do anything, and then Darren's nudging his head back against Chris's hand again. 

People around them shift, a couple leave and get replaced. No one is really facing them and Darren isn't pulling away so Chris does it again, tugs on a lock of hair. 

Darren's palm slides, covertly but in clear view for Chris, between his legs and presses down briefly. 

"Fuck," Chris breathes, under his breath. Darren clearly catches it because he shoots to his feet and grabs Chris's hand. 

"Come on, Colfer. You owe me a dance." 

He's pretty sure Darren has never called him 'Colfer' before and there were no dances promised but Chris isn't about to argue with him. 

* 

The dance floor is crowded, stickyhot and too loud and this isn't normally Chris's scene at all but right now wherever Darren is... that's where Chris wants to be. 

And Darren apparently wants to be pressed right up to Chris, close enough for Chris to see the sweat dampening the curls to his neck and a bead make its way down his temple. He has a crazy impulse to just lick it, to see what Darren would taste like, but he still has some restraint. 

"You don't like dancing?" Darren says it in Chris's ear - not a whisper, because that wouldn't be heard over the dull roar of the place their in, but no one else can hear anyway. No one else is paying attention, or maybe they are and Chris is the one not paying attention. "Or is it just me?" 

Chris tries to respond but Darren doesn't hear him so he presses his lips right to Darren's ear, nose brushing against sweat-slicked hair and fuck he can smell Darren, can't he? He smells sweaty and delicious. It takes him a few minutes to gather enough breath again to say, "I don't know what I'm doing!" 

Darren beams at him and puts his hands on Chris's hips and guides him in a swivel. Chris throws back his head and laughs, because it's a move he's had to perfect on set but he's never actually put it into practice in a real life scenario. Darren winks at him, approving, and steps impossibly closer. 

"You're so hot," Darren says, and keeps his mouth there, and then there's wet on Chris's jaw and he's pretty sure Darren just licked him. He's pretty sure Darren is flirting with him, too - which, Chris supposes, he'd sort of invited by taking advantage of that confession Darren had made about his hair. 

Latching onto the reminder, Chris brings his hands back up and one cups the back of Darren's head. Darren isn't nearly as subtle about it now as he had been surrounded by their friends. He tosses his head back and groans, throat rippling, body grinding forward against Chris. 

When he looks at Chris again there isn't any humor there, just heavy-lidded lust. His mouth is parted just a little and he looks so fucking kissable right now, like Chris could just sink right in there and not stop until he had to come up for air. 

But he doesn't, because he's still weirded out by this. Because Darren is still straight, even if his body language right now is practically an engraved invitation to take him to bed. He waits, not sure what he's waiting for, just knowing that he can't let this be a situation that he misreads. 

* 

They dance through five songs and it escalates in stops and starts, but by the end Chris is hard and Darren is hard and they both know this because Darren has had his thigh pressed between Chris's legs for all of the Lady Gaga song that just finished. Chris feels lightheaded and dizzy and like he's not sure where he stops and Darren starts. It's sexy and terrifying at the same time and if this were anyone else Chris would be trying to head them toward the door. 

"Drink?" Darren asks, and Chris nods because he is thirsty and he thinks they probably both need to hydrate. Darren takes Chris's hand and doesn't let go until they're at the bar. He stands just behind Chris, one arm around around him to grasp at the wood paneling of the bar, like he's trying to isolate Chris from the rest of the crowd. Chris just leans into him, lets it happen. 

Darren orders them two waters, nothing alcoholic. Chris downs half of his bottle in a few ice-cold gulps and has to stop because it sort of makes his head ache a little. Darren just chugs his until the plastic crumples under his fingers, then wipes his mouth on his arm. He catches Chris watching him and smiles - not the over-eager puppy grin kind of smile, but a new one. It's a look that makes something warm and flowing curl through Chris's gut. 

* 

Darren doesn't ask, just leads Chris outside. Darren is still holding his hand, and Chris is battling dueling desires for this night to never end, and for it never to have happened. 

"Home?" 

Chris isn't sure if Darren is asking him to go home with Darren, or if he's asking Chris if he wants to go to his own home. Chris nods, squeezing Darren's hand, hoping that's answer enough. 

In the cab Darren sits closer than he needs to. He gives the cabbie his own address. It's a twenty, maybe thirty minute drive. 

Chris doesn't need another invitation when Darren rests his head on Chris's shoulder. It should really feel more disgusting than it does, because they're both sweaty from proximity and the heat of the club, but he likes the soft little noise that Darren makes. 

"Are you sure?" Chris asks, because he can't just - he can't not ask. Before they get to Darren's house, before they take that last step forward they won't be able to come back from, he has to ask. 

He likes it even more when Darren grabs Chris's other hand and guides it between his legs. Chris sucks in a breath, because Darren is still hard - or maybe hard again, maybe from what Chris is doing with his other hand. 

"Yeah?" Darren asks, hopefully and maybe a touch nervous, but only a touch. This time it's his asking; like he wants permission, or something, which Chris finds ridiculous but maybe it makes sense. Or maybe nothing makes sense because he can still feel Darren's cock twitching under his hand. His fingers fit to the shape and he squeezes a little. Darren buries his head in Chris's shoulder. 

"Yes," Chris says, voice definitive. 

*

It doesn't continue like started; at Darren's place, they're as shy as kids on a first date. Darren holds Chris's hand and Chris blushes even though he has absolutely no reason to, not anymore. He feels still a little drunk and a whole lot nervous until Darren stops him in the living room and cups his face and kisses him on the mouth. 

It's soft and wet and hot and Chris doesn't hesitate to pull him close this time. He tugs at Darren's shirt and then it's off, and Darren has Chris's shirt off too, and there's more skin and more pressing and they don't quite make it to the bedroom. 

"Have you ever done this?" Chris asks into the kiss. 

Darren shakes his head a little bit. "Some of it. Not a lot. That okay?" 

"Fine with me if it is with you," Chris says, laughing. "Is this really just because - the hair?"

"Uh." Darren gives him a wide-eyed look, tongue licking out at his lower lip. "Not really. I just didn't think you were... I mean, I wasn't gonna... dutch courage, you know? Dutch courage and, and... your fucking hands." 

"You like my hands?" He's braver now that he's got some confirmation, stilted though it is. 

"I like everything about you." It's unexpectedly sweet, and Chris just has to kiss him again. 

And again, and again, and then Darren is on his knees and he's staring at Chris's cock like it's the ninth wonder of the world. Chris would be lying if he didn't admit that Darren's weird innocence in the field of blowjobs weren't a turn on, but whatever lack of experience he has is outweighed by his sheer enthusiasm. 

It's not the best blowjob, or the longest, but Chris comes hard and fast into his mouth and Darren swallows like he wouldn't dream of letting a drop slip away. It's knee-weakeningly hot and Chris doesn't want it to ever end, except that when it does he's left with a lap full of eager horny Darren rutting against his thigh. Somehow Darren has already lost his pants (even though Chris is still suck with his shoved down around his knees) and it's easy for Chris to get an actual grasp on what he'd just been fumbling for earlier, Darren's leaking cock. He jerks hard and fast and keeps his grasp firm until Darren is keening, begging Chris to just let him come, and then Chris fists a hand in Darren's curls and that's it - Darren breaks, come streaking Chris's chest because Darren just does not give a fuck right now. 

When it's over Chris just wraps his arms around Darren until Darren starts to squirm, readjusting. Chris makes a 'yuck' face at the mess on his chest until Darren just strips down naked and uses his shorts to wipe it off. Chris isn't really sure how much less gross that is, but he's decided there is some merit in Darren's lack of giving a fuck. 

At least for a few minutes. Then he announces that he needs a shower and Darren shows him where the bathroom is. 

There's an awkward moment where Darren just lingers in the doorway until Chris grabs his hand and tugs him in. They shower together - not entirely platonic but not entirely sexual, lots of fond touching and high school worthy groping until they're clean and stumbling out together. Between the alcohol and the dancing and the orgasm Chris feels like he can barely stand by the time they fall into Darren's bed. 

"I don't normally do this," Darren says. They're cloaked in the dark and both of them are half asleep. They'd started out with inches between them but Darren nudges closer and closer until his forehead touches Chris's shoulder. 

"Yeah?" Chris asks softly. 

"Yeah. I just mean... I mean." He can practically hear Darren trying, for once, to parse out his thoughts before he speaks them. "Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?" 

"Of course," Chris answers. "Maybe dinner, too, if you're lucky." 

Darren smiles and nuzzles in a little bit more, actually putting his head on Chris's shoulder now. Chris reaches a hand up and rakes his fingers through shampoo-scented, damp hair, and pretends not to notice when Darren snickers just a little bit.


End file.
